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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25331539">The Fox and the Grapes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoupyGoopy/pseuds/SoupyGoopy'>SoupyGoopy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:47:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25331539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoupyGoopy/pseuds/SoupyGoopy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It should've been Clementine.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clementine/Violet (Walking Dead: Done Running)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Fox and the Grapes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this instead of sleeping, just something that was stuck in my head. </p><p>Hope yall like it :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Violet couldn’t fucking see anymore. </p><p>She couldn’t see anymore and had scraggly jagged scars on her face that reminded her painfully of a naive and hopeful little boy. Feeling them made her want to vomit, the soft wrinkly skin sending shivers of disbelief down her back and memories of a blinding explosion followed by a searing hot pain that made her vision fade. </p><p>It was all too terrifying and awful to live through again and again and again and again with each bandage change. </p><p>The abandonment. </p><p>The death. </p><p>The failure.</p><p>The horror.</p><p>The adrenaline. </p><p>The anxiety. </p><p>And it felt so good to be angry. So fucking euphoric to just stab and hack away at a walker’s dead body, to chop and feel the putrid rotten flesh give and rip, to hear the sickening and weak crack of the dense bone, to feel the soft dirt swallow the blade, to imagine it was that night, to imagine that she was physically tearing off that memory from her synapses by snapping each and every one of them into pieces.</p><p>To imagine that it was Clementine’s leg she was chopping off. </p><p>Then her other leg. Then her fingers. </p><p>Hands. Arms. Ears. </p><p>Head.</p><p>Louis tries to persuade her into talking about that night constantly. He always tells her that it would help. She just nods and changes the subject, never giving away the eye roll and scoff she has to suppress and swallow each time.</p><p>Help. </p><p>He should’ve helped Tenn stay alive. </p><p>She didn’t need any fucking help anyways. </p><p>The only “help” she needed was getting the memory of Clementine kissing her on top of the bell tower out of her head. She only needed help getting the memories of her heart pounding at the sweet fond chuckle that would trickle from Clementine’s mouth out of her head. She only needed help getting the memories of red hot blushes and discreet bashful gazes out of her head. She only needed help getting the memories of awkward fumbling and excited fingers out of her head. Memories of remorseful amber eyes. Memories of curly hair. Sweet nothings. A worn cap. Full lips.</p><p>It was too good to be true anyways.</p>
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